Notes: Please remember this is an AU with a decidedly non-ninja setting! It is highly influenced by an unhealthy obsession with Turkish divan poetry, countless history books on the Ottoman Empire, and the brilliant Ferzan Özpetek's Harem Suare.

At one glance I love you with a thousand hearts.
 Mihri Hatun

04: the season of roses, it seems

Izumo poked Iruka's shoulder.

Waking was frustrating. He'd been having a lovely dream where he was running through the tops of trees, knowing he was free, returning to something he loved. There was a boy waiting for him, another orphan, but no one he'd ever known. He saw a shock of brilliant yellow hair. And there was something about a fox…

Iruka shifted groggily as opened his eyes. "What?"

"The Sultan has called for you," replied Izumo in a solemn voice. "Kisame is waiting. He said you had fifteen minutes to dress. You want help?"

Iruka shrugged. This was probably it. Maybe not returning was a good thing, but he couldn't imagine that. An apathetic calm overtook him. "I guess. I don't care."

"You don't want to give up now, Iruka. Who knows, maybe he'll grant you freedom, or give you to someone who will."

Iruka gave Izumo a hard look. "Oh, yes, I'd love to be sold just one more time. It's what I dream of."

"Dress yourself then, if you're going to be a jackass!" Izumo turned and stalked out of the room.

Iruka picked up a comb and untangled his hair. He put on the same outfit he always wore, a long dark red entari dress, cast off from a courtesan in the official harem. He'd once had a glimpse through a narrow window of her. Even with her short boyish hair, she exuded a sensual charisma. Something about her reminded him of someone, he could almost say her name, but he had no idea who she was.

He was glad for her clothes though. His had been so threadbare and ill-fitting he dreaded wearing them.

He pulled the entari over his dark, loose trousers and lightweight shirt. Kisame found it amusing to see men wearing dresses, not realising that his robes were little more than a shapeless dress.

As he was pulling the entari on, Kotetsu came in. "Sorry about Izumo, you know he just thinks denying the inevitable and giving up are the route to suicide, so it upsets him when you don't care."

Iruka shrugged. "I know, but I don't know how to care anymore. Not after…" Iruka closed his eyes as he shook his head. "Those soldiers, they were…" his whisper faded as he squeezed his eyes shut, turning away, trying to block out the images, the memory, the sickening feel of hands on his skin.

Kotetsu touched Iruka's shoulder as he turned away. "I know. I saw your back. But it can't get worse can it?" His voice and touch were gentle as always, but his words lit Iruka on fire.

Iruka glared as he turned around. "Don't say that! It always, always gets worse. And it will, mark my word."

With that, he left the room, the scent of warm amber oils following him.

»«

Kisame was waiting for him at the entrance. "Took you long enough and you hardly look any different from normal," he sneered as Iruka came out.

Normally he'd banter back with Kisame; the homely eunuch just wanted attention. But at this point Iruka had already numbed himself. He didn't know what was going to happen now. Might as well enter it with a clear mind. He'd survived the Soldier's Hall. It was his first experience with sex, vicious as it was, and despite his words to Kotetsu, he couldn't imagine much worse than a week spent servicing desperate, vicious soldiers, high on the spoils of war.

They walked through the long hall and narrow passageway to the Sultan's evening chambers and Kisame presented Iruka to the Sultan. The Sultan looked up and Kisame disappeared. Slowly, head bowed just enough to appear obliging, Iruka made his way closer. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the step, just as Kisame had instructed and waited.

The Sultan sat at a low table on a raised dais. He beckoned Iruka closer, pointing to the edge of the step. Iruka scooted to rest his arms on the dais and continued to use his peripheral vision to keep watch of the Sultan's movements.

Handing Iruka a small roll of bread, the Sultan began conversationally. "Did you enjoy the soldiers?"

Iruka stopped mid-bite and glanced at the table. If I say no, will I be sent back? God forbid he should say yes, that had to guarantee a trip back. He never wanted to see that miserable Mizuki again, commander or not. He certainly didn't want to give the man a chance to buy him—or hurt him again.

Just as he was about to respond, Kisame interrupted. Iruka looked up. He'd never been happy to see the monstrous eunuch, but this time, he'd count it as a blessing.

"My apologies, Sultan, but your adventurer is here."

"Of course, bring him in. Prepare the table for him." The Sultan gave Iruka a cold glance nodding toward the table, implying Iruka would be serving the man.

Please don't let it be that horrible Mizuki. He's not going to give me to him, is he?

Iruka kept his head down as the guest entered the chamber.

"Greetings, Itachi. It's a pleasure to be in your court. I sincerely appreciate the invitation."

Iruka could hear the rustling of clothing and boots thudding against the marble floor. The man sat and Iruka could feel his warmth emanating. He smelled like the forest Iruka had dreamt about, green and bright, a hint of sweetness, and a hint of sweat. Iruka inhaled deeply. There was something almost familiar about his voice.

"I left my guards to Kisame, he said they'd be given dinner and shown rooms. Again, I appreciate your hospitality."

Iruka peeked from the corner of his eyes and saw the Sultan—Itachi was his name?—grin. Iruka hadn't known the man could smile, let alone, grin. How very playful of him. Iruka was almost intrigued.

A servant interrupted swiftly to set food before the guest. Iruka heard a murmured thank you from the man and shared the servant's surprised response, though he kept his own surprise reserved in his head.

He kept his head down as they talked; pouring tea twice while they conversed of things that Iruka didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He was close to closing his eyes and drifting off, the smell of food mingling with the guest's warm scent and soothing him. It was only the fact that he had his food wedged painfully against the corner of the low table that he was able to stay awake.

Nevertheless, he startled when he heard Itachi's question to the guest.

"Would you like something to warm your bed this evening, Kakashi?"

Kakashi? But that's the man who—Iruka jerked as his head was lifted by a warm, slightly rough hand. He stared into the face above his helplessly. One eye was covered by an eye patch, the other barely hiding astonishment. He stared at Iruka, shifting his face slightly to the side.

"No," Kakashi responded, letting his hand slide from Iruka's face. "I should go ahead and rest. It's been a long day and I've much to show you in the morning."

The Sultan nodded graciously. "Very well. Iruka, show our guest to his rooms. Make certain you are in your own by curfew."

He didn't have to elaborate. The last subjects found outside curfew —a servant boy from the seraglio and a young courtesan in training from the harem—had been hanged. It was simple and terrifying, like nothing Iruka had ever seen. Of course, that had also been two weeks after he'd got here. The message was clear and potent. He was always on time and well before the curfew bell rang.

One boy in the seraglio, well, Ebisu was hardly a boy. Sometimes it was hard to think of themselves as men given as they were to playing and having fun; there was little else to do. Ebisu had been in the seraglio nearly 12 years. He said he'd never seen anything quite like that hanging. It was a shock to them all.

The previous Sultan had been an indulgent old man, said Ebisu. The courtesans were schooled, did duties for the Sultan and were treated practically as beloved grandchildren to the man, both the males and females. He had even picked several men from the seraglio as advisors both political and military, and one year before his death had made one, Asuma, a general. He handpicked brides from the harem for these men and others, cautioning them that their union was one especially blessed by the Sultan and he'd trust them to uphold his choices.

Iruka had no idea what it was like to have someone care that much and sometimes stopped just short of wishing he'd been around for that.

As he walked through the hallways, Kakashi close behind him, he felt a fury begin to tremor through him.

Maybe I could have had that. How dare this man! He was supposed to be my saviour. He promised me. Why did he lie? And why is he here now?

As they rounded the last corner to the guest rooms, Kakashi's arm shot out, trapping Iruka inside a small nook. "Iruka, what are you doing here?"

Iruka shoved his hand away, kicked him, and ran.

He was still panting when he dropped onto his bed.

Kotetsu and Izumo immediately came to his side, Izumo reaching up to brush away tears. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Iruka stared at them, and suddenly felt the flood of tears threatening his composure. He shook his head and told them what had happened, and who the man was.

"Hatake Kakashi? You mean the scholar, that Kakashi? Oh Iruka, he's been here before, but never had one of us. Maybe the harem, I don't know, but I do know this: he's dreamy. A little scary, but, so thrilling. He might buy you and we'll never see you again. You could travel the world!"

Iruka shook his head. He didn't bother telling them the truth. He bought me once already, but never came back. That's why I'm here. He shook off their touches and went to bed alone.

It's his fault I'm here. Why is he here?

»«